When Eddie and I got married, we had to take a short honeymoon. We got married on a Saturday, and since we'd decided to get married while he was still an undergraduate, we wanted to remedy that situation as soon as possible, so he started his load of spring term classes the following Wednesday. That gave us three whole days to go on a honeymoon. They were three wonderful days. It's funny, because we went to Park City for our honeymoon, and it's a place we visit pretty frequently now that we only live 20 minutes away, but I've never had any desire to go back to Stein Ericksen Lodge, where we spent those three days-- it's like that place exists in my mind as a memory, and I don't want the reality of today to change it at all.
So we came home, went back to school, and started building a life together.
When we got Rose, the honeymoon lasted longer. First there was the time in China. Then the time when we came home and were hanging on until she had her surgery-- we didn't want to make anything too difficult in that time. Then she had to recover. And then we were getting ready to go on vacation, so it was still time to just do whatever it took to keep her and us happy.
For a while, she felt like my little doll, a baby to dress up and play with.
But today, she sat in her high chair, with a brownie and an open cup of water, mixing brownie bits and water until they were a brown, sloshy mess. I picked her up and nearly started gagging. Because she smelled. Bad. Really bad. And I wasn't sure what was poop and what was brownie and I didn't want to accidentally confuse the first one for the second. And I looked at my baby, cranky from missing her nap, covered in brown goo and smelling to high heaven, and I realized that I'm not seeing her as my little doll or even my adopted baby any more, she's just one of the kids. One who, at that moment, happened to be incredibly dirty.
And while everyone loves a babymoon, it doesn't last forever.
I think that's a good thing. Because, as one of the gang, all of the attention isn't focused right on her. She can mess up. She can be crabby. She's not the crown princess, privileged above all others.
In the long run, I think that's a good place to be. I've had more than fifteen years of a great marriage and only three days of a honeymoon, and I prefer real life for sure. I hope Rose will too.